Safeguard
by Silver Blazen
Summary: Natasha feels her heart pounded against her chest, all defenses rise, and gun is clutched in her hand. She becomes his shield. His protection against the chaos around them and her blood stained hands secure over his heart.


**Safeguard**

**All Marvel characters belong to Marvel Comics**

**I own nothing**

**{I dedicate this story to all my readers and fans of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff}**

* * *

"Stay with me, Rogers." Natasha spoke in soothing voice, twining her fingers through his spiked golden hair, picking out the shards of glass. She dared herself to look down at the damage, the chiseled lines of his face caked in blood, a deep cut embedded near the crown of his head, his lips tarnished and bruised at the corners. A hiss passed over her lips, when she collected the metallic taste of blood trailing lines of warmth down her throat. She had been compromised, her body wounded from rapid fire, glass jutted out of her thigh, ruining her leather stealth suit. Natasha was immune to the pain jostling in her bones; the cold numbness penetrating deep and the damaged walls painted with macabre of crimson. It was her world.

Pain had become jaded pieces in her heart for a moment; Natasha knew that she was reaching the desolation of her nightmarish past. The bounds of her sins transformed into molten shackles. Unbreakable and searing over her pale skin. She tried to find a way to break the chains of her secrets, the links that her mistakes forged each time she pulled the trigger or sliced throats of her victims.

Straining, her chest fought against the folds of dread cloaking over her pounding heart, and she knew it wasn't something to escape from with a mere glimpse of fear. It has always been impermanent to feel warmth enter through the marrow of her bones, to taste soft lips that didn't poison her blood.; those feelings and emotions were weaknesses for her demons to compromise -horror carried with vivid images of Budapest, the children's ward in the heart of mother Russia, and the blood smears she painted walls with her own hands reminded her that she was an evil incarnate.

She was a devil among men and the butcher of hearts. She was the venomous, unpredictable and sly as the Black Widow spider of the Amazon; luring her prey into her webs before killing them with a single bite.

Although her murderous nature found enjoyment with her relentless attacks; a part of her wanted to grasp a taste of freedom without deceiving good men to get what she wanted before the heat went down and her rewritten identities shattered if her enemies discovered a torturous way to peel the truth off of her bones.

Clutching his shoulder with her fist, Natasha's fingers pressed over the opened wound seeping from the right side of his firm chest, knuckles grazed against the dark blue Kevlar, sustaining the sticky blood pouring from his collarbone, warm and dark shades of red gathered in the creases of her fingers, staining her polished nails with maroon. She was leaning against the wall, plaster crumbling around her and the knells of sirens echoing in the distance, beyond the thickness of smoke rising above the obstructed streets.

His life was in her hands.

She locked her acute eyes on the shield turned over underneath a table, the red and white strips gleamed in the gray light. She just stared at the pieces of glass coated with his blood scattered on the floor, tiny and large shards and the lifeless body slumped in corner with her bullet that she had discharged with no hesitation at the moment when Steve's back collided into the wall. She had reacted by emotions, protecting her partner and using her methods of survival to devour the hatred skimming in her veins.

She fought against the numbness crawling in her right leg, compromised by a bullet that shot through the wall when she held Steve's massive body against her lithe frame, and tried to carry him out from the danger zone; she had taken her intent focus off the shadows for a brief second, and knew that she was target before the sniper fired the round into the building.

Natasha looked down at Steve, tasting the metallic tang of blood drip over her lips. She put on her brave face for him, and rubbed her fingers over the silver star in middle of his chest.

This was her debt. She owed him a life.

"Steve," her heart slowly crept up her throat. Her grayish eyes narrowed at his battered face. There was no response. She jerked his shoulder light, hoping to jar him to consciousness. She glanced frantically around the desolation left from the attack, panic was eating away at her.

Natasha knew there wasn't much time before they were surrounded. It did not help that she only had one bullet left in her gun. She had to stay guarded and watchful. Steve's life was now in her blood stained hands.

"Can you hear me, Rogers?" she spoke a little louder, and fumbled her fingers over his jugular, pressing on his sweaty neck, and took his pulse. It was thumping enough to prove to her that he was fighting to regain his strength. The super-soldier was losing too much blood. Immediately she ripped her leather sleeve, and pressed it firm on his wound, preventing the leakage from creating a lagoon of red underneath him.

Sucking in a deep breath, she looked down at his face; his tarnished skin glistened with feverish sweat and twisted with agony. "I know that you're too stubborn to listen, but hear me out." she whispered in sparse tone, pressing her lips into a tight line. Scarlet curls dangled from the side of her face, as her hands threaded over his golden locks. 'Remember that morning when you and I were in the guest bedroom of Sam's house and we talked about owing our lives and trusting each other to carry out that mission. I want to save you, Rogers. Like you saved me in the bunker, but I can't life you because you're so heavy. I need you to help with this..." she added, caressing a gentle touch against his temple. "Come on, Cap."

No response.

"Don't do this to me, Rogers." Natasha gritted, seething out a breath. Her battered soul was straining and heart pounded faster and faster until it thudded against her chest, causing a jolt to penetrate into her bones. She slid her index finger across the cool flesh of his bottom lip.

"Hang on for me." she urged and wrapped her arms over his waist, using every ounce of strength, and lifted him against her body, placing his chin to rest against her shoulder. His body was warm. He relaxed against her, making her breasts feel the planes of his chest, and the rate of his heart. Her fingers gripped his powerful shoulders as she managed to rub her cheek against his jaw.

She tilted her head slightly, and brushed her lips faintly over his cheek, feeling the moisture of his skin melt against her mouth. A low moan pierced from his lips, she instantly pulled back, trying to cover up her emotions. Steve's eyelids fluttered into a slit, and she found herself in a trance as the shimmering crystal ocean blue cutting through the shadows. Then, he grimaced and hissed in pain, clutching his hand over her shoulder as he swayed against her.

"Nat?" he spoke in a broken slur of words, folding his lips and swallowed. "I thought I'm the one who always saves you?"

"This is one time thing," she baited out a breath, feeling her heart swell with relief. "You're walking out on your own. You're way too heavy." she smirked, hiding her tears.

"Yeah," he lightly felt his lips tug into a smile; he leaned in closer until his point of his nose formed a perfect diamond with her nose. His breath was still, heart steadied, and he rubbed a gentle caress of wet heat over her lips into a tentative embrace... Closing his eyes for a second, and tasted her mouth melt underneath the folds of his as he kissed her with softness and the grace of his love for her. It made him feel weightless, hotblooded and dizzy with the haze of desire, and the warm sweetness of his mouth dissolved away into something desperate, empowering and loving.

Pulling away, Natasha looked dully into his blue eyes, breathless. "I was always the one you kissed you?"

"I know," he replied, his face hovered over hers and his lips brushed over her mouth again. "I wanted to say thank you, but I know you wouldn't accept it. So this, I guess this fits more your style?"

She traced her finger along the curve of his jaw and her other hand seizing over the gun, "Close enough." she whispered hotly and crashed her lips into a feverish interlock as the pain in their bodies abated with each kiss.


End file.
